20 lei: A mother’s aloha for Connecticut’s fallen keiki

Editor’s note: Dear readers, I found myself extraordinarily moved by this Facebook post by Leah Dang of San Francisco’s Aloha Warehouse, and her feelings of aloha and kuleana (“responsibility” is one translation) for the youngest victims in Connecticut. With her permission, I share it with you. — Jeanne Cooper

So this woman called me yesterday. She wanted 21 lei to be ready for pickup this morning. I didn’t have enough flowers. I knew I was receiving another box, but the orchid man always showed up right before closing on Sunday or after opening on Monday, and just as I was ready to regretfully decline the order she said the magic words: “They’re for a kindergarten class.”

A kindergarten class! My heart sank. Since Friday I have been haunted by visions of the children killed in Connecticut, and find myself feeling a sometimes overwhelming sense of sadness. Not just for the victims and their families, but for the world.
“I’ll do it … ummm … let me call you right back,” I said.

I quickly dialed my orchid man in the hopes that he could get the flowers to me at some point in the evening or night and his answer to me was “I’m on my way to you right now. The flowers arrived earlier then usual.” Once I confirmed the order with the customer, Susan, I started on the order: 19 keiki lei and 2 for adults.

Working on the lei as friends visited and helped was so pleasant, it gave me a much needed boost of lightness to the weekend. I knew I would be up late finishing the order since I had plans for the evening, but that was perfectly fine … they were for kindergarteners, and I not only wanted to finish before I laid down to sleep, I felt like I needed to finish. Finishing in the morning was not acceptable to me ….

As I sat by myself sewing the last of the lei late at night, I found myself crying. I thought of those 20 children. Had they ever known the joy of receiving a lei? Had they ever swum in the ocean or run on a beach?

I knew the name of the shooter … who didn’t? So many words were being thrown around. Mentally ill … on the autism spectrum … special needs. Words that have been used to label my own “PDD-NOS accompanied by autism spectrum disorder”- diagnosed son. The only words that didn’t relate to Ryu were “prone to violence.” Does Ryu have this bottled up in him too? Could Ryu ever become a killer?

I tell myself of course not. Do I know for sure? Not really. One thing I do know for sure, though: His mother will never have weapons of mass destruction available for him to use. The fact that the shooter’s weapons were registered to his mother is dumbfounding to me.

This morning, as I was packing the lei all in the boxes for pickup, I realized I made an extra one: 20 little keiki lei lined up in a box. I had a good cry over that one. When Susan picked up her lei, I told her about the 20th lei, and we cried together as mothers for the 20 children we would never meet.

So now I wait for the photo Susan promised to text to me: a photo of smiling children with lei around their necks. Once I see it my kuleana will be complete.